my Kansas childhood
 
gifted with meadowlark song
 
and the restless wind

 
 
 

Savaged by the wind,
 
the sunflowers still manage
 
to sing blooming songs.

 
 
 

Summer afternoon—
 
on a weathered wooden fence
 
a dove leaves its song.

 
 
 

As July winds down,
 
the stone Buddha’s lap fills up
 
with empty wind songs.

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
my questions have no answers,
 
so sing me a song!

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
how many songs can you sing
 
to celebrate spring?

 

 
 
 

Little brown sparrow,
 
have you composed a new song
 
for Easter morning?

 

 
 
 

Midwinter surprise—
 
in my left shoe a cricket
 
chirrs a morning song!

 
 
 

refrigerator
 
humming a song to itself—
 
autumn loneliness

 
 
 

What song’s left to sing
 
now that all the maple trees
 
have cast off their leaves?